Before We Fell Read online

  “I wanted you to see this.” I handed him the folder and stepped back. Away from the force of his presence. It wasn’t surprising that he was a criminal defense attorney. He intimidated the crap out of me. “Yesterday, I asked them to draw something fun they did this summer.”

  He was scowling at me like the assignment was the dumbest thing in the world and I kept my eyes on him, trying to read his expression as he flipped open the folder. He glanced at it, closed it, and let it drop to his side.

  He arched one thick brow at me and tilted his head to the side. “And?”

  Was he not affected in any way by this? His ability to school any expression left me floundering. How could I talk to someone who seemed to care so little?

  “Well.” I brushed my hands together, fighting the urge to shrink under him and get to the point. “I’m concerned about her and trying to help her, Mr. Wilkes—”

  “Noah.”

  I ignored him and pushed on. “She’s smart. She’s testing well above her grade level for reading and she’s bored in math, so I slip her extra work. Riley is exceptionally intelligent, and even talented in art, but… I need to know how to reach her, I guess. How I can help her…socially.”

  What did I need to do to make this girl smile? Ease her pain? I was a giver and lover and the first to break down during a laundry detergent commercial. Forget about the animal abuse commercials during the holidays. They sent me into a tailspin.

  He leaned toward me and that small movement made me jerk back. Speaking quietly, he hissed his next words at me like I was the enemy. “She witnessed her parents being killed in front of her, Miss Frazier. How exactly are you qualified to help her? And how quickly do you expect her to move on from that? You are her teacher. Teach her. That’s how you help her. You are not her mother or her therapist.” He whipped out the folder, putting it between us and I reached for it with shaking hands. “Leave the personal shit to us because we’re doing everything we can and we don’t need some goody-two-shoes skipping into her life thinking she can save her.”

  My body shook. My God. I’d never been spoken to this way in my life, and I had no idea how to handle it, but I wasn’t a wilting flower.

  “With all respect intended, Mr. Wilkes,” I said, not giving a single damn what he wanted to be called. “That little girl needs all the help she can get. She won’t speak with kids. Won’t play with them. She barely answers any questions I ask her, and as her teacher, any insight into how she behaves at home can help me with her at school. She’s lonely and miserable and I completely understand why she’s that way, but all I’m asking for is help learning about her so I can help draw her out of her shell a little bit. I would think you’d want as many people as possible right now to rally around her and love her and care for her.”

  I ripped the folder out of his hands and before he could reply, continued. “But fine. You want to go it alone? You want to make my job harder? Done. I’ll get through to her without your help.”

  I stomped around him, my chest heaving, my limbs a trembling mess. That was not at all how I envisioned that conversation going. What man wouldn’t want help? My brain fizzled, unable to comprehend why my simple question sparked such rage in him.

  But whatever.

  “Hey Riley,” I said, plastering on a fake smile as I re-entered the classroom and used my best teacher voice. “Your uncle and I are done speaking now. You ready to head home?”

  “Okay,” she said and gathered her supplies. She tucked her markers carefully into her pencil case and put everything away neatly in her desk. I helped her with her book bag, the whole time feeling a death glare at my back, seeping into my room from the hallway where Noah stood.

  Whatever. I ignored him while I brushed Riley’s hair over her shoulder, tugging it out from beneath her book bag strap and pressed my palm to her cheek. “Have a good weekend, okay? I’ll see you Monday.”

  Her lips lifted into a hesitant grin. Not quite a smile. At least it wasn’t a frown. “Bye, Miss Frazier.”

  She stepped around me and went to Noah, holding out the drawing I’d asked her to make for him.

  “What’s this, Squirt?” he asked, kneeling down so he was at eye level. He took the paper from her, glanced at it and then grinned at her.

  His smile was blinding. So wide and beautiful it almost knocked me off my feet. At least he wasn’t an asshole to her. “You want to see the horses this weekend?”

  She nodded rapidly, hands curling around her straps.

  “Okay then.” He placed his palm to the top of her head. “We’ll go to Grandma’s then. She’ll love to see you.”

  He didn’t acknowledge me as he stood and held out his hand. She took it, her tiny hand dwarfed in his massive one and as they took a step away, she turned and looked at me over her shoulder.

  And this time, it was her smile that almost sent me to the floor.

  “I get to ride my grandma’s horsies this weekend, Miss Frazier!”

  Tears sparked in my eyes at her expression. I hadn’t yet seen her smile, or look so filled with joy, and if she was a beautiful child when she was frowning, her happy expression shone brighter than the sun. I lifted my hand and grinned, chin trembling with happy tears for her. “I’m glad, sweetie. Have fun and make sure you tell me all about it on Monday.”

  I forced my gaze up, met Noah’s and as I did, he was glancing back and forth between Riley and me, lips twisted like he’d tasted something foul.

  He tugged her down the hallway without saying a word or acknowledging me.

  But who cared? He could be a jerk all he wanted.

  I got Riley to smile and talk to me. It was the best way to end the day.

  Five

  Noah

  * * *

  Contrary to the popular opinion of most lawyers and judges and police officers in St. Louis, I didn’t get my kicks by being a complete asshole. Sometimes the habit was hard to kick, and once re-started, difficult to stall.

  Which was why, as I walked to my truck with Riley’s hand in mine, I couldn’t think of a damn word to say.

  She smiled at her teacher. She laughed. She skipped.

  She fucking talked to her.

  Nothing made me feel like a bigger failure than the moment she turned to Miss Frazier— Lauren—and showed her absolute excitement about getting to see the horses.

  She spent several nights a week at my parents’ horse ranch over the summer and never once did she smile or act excited about being there, even though I knew how much she loved it when she visited with her mom and dad.

  But for me? I didn’t get a smile.

  And her teacher? Who she knew for a week? She got everything.

  So yeah, I took it out on the sweet and curvy looking teacher who looked barely legal even though she had to be to be teaching.

  When I first caught sight of them, skipping down the hall of all things, I had to fight against rolling my eyes. Everyone around Riley these last few months went into some hyper-drive, over the top excitement when they spoke to her as if psychotic happy eyes and a smile the size of Texas would get her to cooperate. I figured her teacher was doing the same thing, but then I saw the look on Riley’s as she joined her.

  Lauren smiling down at her.

  Riley grinning back. Skipping. Smiling.

  I got mumbles and frowns and nightmares, night after night, and she gave the best parts of her to her teacher.

  What in the hell was I doing wrong? Not that I would admit that to the teacher who smiled so sweetly it made my teeth ache, and other parts of me unfortunately noticed. But damn, it hurt. I gave up my life for Riley. For Amanda and Jake. I gave up my career, my home, my entire social life in St. Louis to do what was best for her and I hadn’t seen a damn smile from my niece for six months.

  Until I was given custody, all she ever gave me was smiles and giggles and laughter and fun. So much damn fun.

  Shit. I scrubbed a hand down my face and sighed.

  Maybe I needed the teacher’s help with her. No one wanted Riley acting more like the sweet and exuberant child she used to be before her life turned to shit than I did.

  And that photo she drew? What a kick to the nuts. Sometimes I liked to believe this was all a dream. That I’d wake up in my bed in my penthouse condo and Peyton wouldn’t be sleeping next to me. I’d roll to my side, my alarm buzzing at five a.m. like it always used to, and then I’d get out of bed, go to work, get a call from Amanda or a text with a completely inappropriate meme and life would be what it was supposed to be.

  Anything but this.

  Anything but seeing Riley so hurt and frail and sad and so, so damn quiet it killed me.

  “Did you have fun at school today?” I asked, squeezing her hand and reaching around to open the back door to my truck. I’d sold my Mercedes sports car before we moved. A sixty thousand dollar sports car wasn’t exactly practical in Carlton.

  Riley climbed up in the truck. “No.”

  “Hmmm.” I helped take off her book bag and tossed it in the seat next to her. As she buckled in, I fought against the questions pummeling me. Why? Did someone make you sad? How can I make it better? If someone hurt you, I’ll kill them. That one would have been worst of all. I was a problem solver. A puzzle fixer. That we still had no evidence as to who killed her parents and no closure in sight kept me up at night, practically clawing the walls with frustration. But not being able to fix Riley?

  That hurt worse.

  “I know something that might make your sucky day better,” I said, grinning. I wiggled my brows at her like I used to. She pressed her lips into a smile and her eyes showed the tiniest glimmer of wonder. “Ice cream. Chocolate, right?”

  I’d tried to bribe her with some yesterday, to no avail. Maybe today would work.


  She nodded, those pressed lips as much of a smile as they could possibly be.

  “Two scoops right?” I asked, because what good was ice cream if you only had one?

  She shook her head and held up her hand, fingers extended. “Three,” she said, so sweetly. So fucking sweet I wanted to grab my phone and snap a picture to remember the look on her face in that very minute.

  The moment I made her almost smile.

  “Three it is,” I replied. Closing the door to the truck, I hurried around to my side and climbed in, started the truck.

  And I took my niece to Scones Cones for ice cream.

  Then we went to see a new animated princess movie.

  And had popcorn for dinner.

  I spent the afternoon ignoring my phone, calls from my old law firm coming in rapid-fire telling me something was very wrong with the case I was consulting on, but I ignored it.

  For Riley.

  Because some days, I still just wanted to be her uncle. The guy who made her laugh. The guy who spoiled her to bits and pieces.

  And I might not have made her laugh, but I did make her smile. And she might not have talked, but she giggled once or twice.

  So when I put her to bed, I counted it as a win.

  “Mommy! Daddy! Mommy! Daddy!”

  The screams echoing through the house jolted me from bed. I used to sleep butt naked, but that ended as soon as Riley had her first nightmare. I no longer had to waste time fumbling for pajama pants in the middle of the night when her tortured screams ripped through the house like the worst tornado in history.

  I ran out of my room and to Riley’s on the other side of the living room knowing exactly what I’d find.

  Tangled blankets. Sheets so sweaty it was amazing I could ever get them clean and dry. Matted, sweaty hair stuck all over Riley’s face as she tossed and turned. Her little face bright red and her throat raw from screaming.

  “Shhh,” I crooned, grabbing her from her bed. She clung to me, her body hot as fire, her tiny fingers clawing at my shoulders, my back, my neck. During some of her worst nightmares, she’d drawn blood on my back, left bruises on my shins from her harsh kicks.

  My niece was pipsqueak-sized with bear-sized power and strength.

  I folded my arms around her and stood with her in my arms before re-adjusting and sitting down with her in my lap.

  These stupid things. They came several times a week. Frequently enough I should know not to sleep until they passed, but I needed my damn sleep, too.

  Just another thing I’m failing at.

  “Mommy!” she cried, burrowing to my body heat like she could dig through me and see Amanda again. My hand was at the back of her head, holding her firmly against me. I could never figure out how to end these things. Even when I held her, carried her, rocked her like she was still a toddler and not a fifty-pound child. But it didn’t matter. Nothing I did helped until she exhausted herself from screaming and crying and would eventually go limp in my arms but awake and needing another bath.

  I carried her through the house, flipping on a small lamp in the living room and one in the kitchen over the now destroyed bar, while she cried, helpless to do anything when the picture of the horse caught my attention. I’d hung it on the fridge as soon as we got back from the movie theater, Riley in my arms and yawning.

  Horses.

  She wanted to see them.

  “Hey, Squirt,” I whispered, brushing her hair off her tear-stained cheeks. “I have an idea. How about we get you a quick bath and I’ll show you something special. Would you like that?”

  “Special?”

  “Special.” I nodded, surprised she answered me with a word.

  Her small fingers pressed into my shoulders and she sniffed. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” I repeated, kissing her temple. She snuggled against me, arms wrapped around my shoulders as I carried her to the bathroom. She clung to me like a monkey as I started the water, sitting on the edge of the tub.

  I filled the tub with just a few inches of warm water. Our midnight baths were quicker than the showers she took before bedtime, and before she climbed in, I gave her another kiss. “Wash up. I’ll go get you dry clothes.”

  As she listened, I left the bathroom, leaving the door open and hurried to her room. Moving quickly, I stripped the sheets off her small bed and re-did them with one of the several spares I kept in her closet. I grabbed pajamas from her dresser and kicked her dirty sheets into the hallway.

  Then, surprised I hadn’t thought of this before, I hurried to my closet where I’d kept a box of her mother’s things, a box my mom had brought over shortly after we moved to Carlton as a way for Riley to have mementos of her mom. I hadn’t known if she was ready for them. Some days she didn’t even want to look at the framed family photos I had in her room, brought with us from her old house, so I didn’t want to shove more in her face.

  At this point, what could it hurt?

  I dug through the box, finding an old, brown, faux-leather photo album and hurried back to the bathroom. I walked in, and dropped her clothes on the counter, grabbing the ones she’d discarded into a messy pile on the floor. “Need any help in here?”

  I trusted her to shower by herself at night. Amanda had raised her to be pretty independent so I knew she could do it, but during the middle of the night when she was usually half-asleep, I was always more careful.

  She said nothing, but through the shower curtain, her head shook that she was okay.

  “Come see me in my bed when you’re done, Squirt. Got it?”

  A silent, shadowed nod.

  I sighed, shoulders drooped. What I wouldn’t give for a whole sentence shouted at me like she’d done to her teacher earlier.

  Time.

  She needed time.

  While she finished up, I tossed her clothes and sheets into the washer and started it. Then I headed back to my room and tugged on a T-shirt before climbing into my bed.

  She padded in silently a few minutes later, comb in her hand, tugging at her hair. “I can do that for you,” I said, already trying to reach for her comb to help. She never let me help her, but she couldn’t do it herself quite yet. Her hair was too long, too thick, and I was growing concerned with the tangles.

  Her face would twist in pain and more than once she’d thrown an epic tantrum over her hair.

  The last time I tried, she’d finally given me an entire sentence. “Only Mommy can do it right!” she screamed hysterically at me.

  I’d backed off. My mother had done the same. But soon, we’d have to address it.

  She hugged her comb to her chest and climbed into bed next to me.

  Then I opened the photo album and she gasped.

  It was Amanda’s. She’d grown up on horses. My mom taught her to ride on our ranch and she’d gone on to win dozens of awards and trophies at competitions.

  “Your mommy loved horses,” I said, opening it up to a page in the book where Amanda was about Riley’s age, maybe ten or eleven. I knew she knew that. Amanda used to tell her stories all the time about the horses. And the photos helped me think of her favorites.

  Some of my clearest memories of Amanda were of her on a horse.

  And God I was an idiot, I should have thought of this sooner.

  “Want to hear a story about your mommy, Riley?” I held my breath as I waited.

  She froze, and then relaxed, almost melting into me. Her head went to my shoulder and I wrapped an arm around her, tugging her close. I pulled up my comforter to cover her as much as I could, and then I grinned.

  And then I told her the story. The day where Amanda was learning to jump horses in our outdoor ring but that day she didn’t choose Rosy, the horse she always rode on. She chose Mikey. My horse. The most stubborn horse we had which was why I loved him. And he hated jumping.

  Amanda was ten. Dead set on believing she could get that horse to do something he wouldn’t for me. So I let her have him. And I’d never forget that cocky little victorious grin she plastered onto her face as she pranced around the ring, Mikey humoring her and jumping for a few laps.

  Until I whistled. She’d been right at a jump and the horse halted. Froze and lowered his head…and sent her flying over his head, right into a pile of mud.